


Charming Joggers

by jeni_andtheafterthought



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Cookies, Christmas Party, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Christmas, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Inappropriate Use of Clothing Charms, M/M, Polyamory, Surprise Party, festive joggers, polyamory is hinted/implied and is not between Draco and Harry, wardrobe malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeni_andtheafterthought/pseuds/jeni_andtheafterthought
Summary: Several of the eighth year students have decided to stay at Hogwarts for the first weekend of the Christmas holidays. Draco finds himself attending a day-long Christmas party and becoming the target of a very distracting prank. Pansy has charmed everyone's pajamas. Some now have gingerbread men. Some have candy canes. One particular pair of joggers...well, those are the real show stoppers.





	Charming Joggers

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the mods for bringing us such a cozy (sometimes steamy) fest!  
> Thank you to my beta [Sunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SliceOSunshine/pseuds/SliceOSunshine) for being all-around fantastic.

Draco sat near a window in the eighth years’ common room watching the sun rise. It was not much of a sunrise, only causing the sky to go slowly from black to very pale grey. At this time of year, it wasn’t particularly early either. Though the Christmas holidays had technically started with the dismissal of their classes the afternoon before, very few students had left on the train last night. Draco realized this meant he had a limited amount of time to appreciate the quiet, finish his tea, and continue reading the first bit of fiction he’d had time for since classes began.

Turning another page, lost in the regular lives of normal people, Draco raised the cup to his lips. He was surprised to find it empty. With a quick glance at the page number, he closed the book and considered going down to the Great Hall to see if the house elves would be preparing an actual breakfast. Before he made his decision, he heard someone coming down the stairs.

“Why are you dressed?”

Draco saw a very confused-looking Ron standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Well, I’m out of bed, you see.”

“No, you knob. I meant, you’re wearing trousers and a sweater. I thought we were supposed to be in our party clothes all day.” Ron gestured at his pajamas. He wore a burgundy sweater with a large, gold “R” with pajama bottoms covered in candy canes.

Draco took a deep breath, fighting to keep the frown from his face. “I wasn’t invited to your Christmas party.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Ron said, crossing the common room to take a seat next to Draco in the window nook. “No one was invited. It’s just a thing. Go change.”

“I’m not going to crash your party just because you say so.”

“Who’s party is it?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, looking down at the book in his hands.

“Kind of mine. Definitely Hannah’s. Hermione and Dean came up the biggest part of the plans. A little Pansy’s. Padma’s, without a doubt,” Ron said, counting off each person on his fingers.

“What’s your point, Weasley?”

“My point is, if you want to be involved, get involved,” Ron said. “I’m tired of watching you wait for people to give you permission to do anything. You are allowed to have a good time. You are allowed to wear your pajamas all day, eat sweets before dinner, and show up for a slumber party in the common room.”

Draco was deeply uncomfortable with Ron’s straight-forward approach. Despite the fact they’d patched up what they could and agreed to move past the things they couldn’t, his offers of camaraderie were still met with some degree of hesitance.

“Harry will be insufferable if you don’t.”

Draco glanced up at Ron. Surely Ron didn’t suspect that…

“Draco,” Harry said from across the common room, “are you not staying for the party?” Even from this distance, Draco noticed the slight furrow to his brow, the ghost of a frown on his mouth.

“I didn’t realize it would be such a tragedy if I missed it.”

“I was just trying to tell the brat to go put on some proper attire—” Ron started.

Draco laughed. “Proper attire? You wore rubber shoes to class!”

“I’ll have you know that George gave me those. First thing he’d given me in years that wasn’t a prank or something from the joke shop. I couldn’t just not wear them.”

“I’ll have you know, those things probably were the joke,” Draco retorted.

Harry pulled up a chair in front of them. “They were, you know.”

“What?” they asked in unison.

“Hermione told George about the Crocs. They’re the worst things you can put on your feet and still be allowed into public areas,” Harry explained.

“I’m disappointed but not surprised.”

Draco looked from Ron to Harry, trying to plan his escape. His brain faltered mid-plan when his line of sight was caught on Harry’s lap. Harry’s… pajamas, for lack of a better word… were made from what was likely the thinnest fabric he’d ever seen. They were almost the same pale grey of the winter morning sky and were speckled with tiny snowflakes. They looked so soft, and Draco could, with almost no imagination, see Harry’s—

“Draco, darling,” Pansy called. “Why are you dressed like an off-duty professor?”

“Am I to be greeted by every single bloody person in the castle today?” Draco demanded, though secretly he was relieved for the distraction.

“As long as you seem to be the only person refusing to join the festivities, yes. It’s likely.”

Draco gave her clothing a pointed look. “I hope you freeze.”

“Looking this hot? Not likely, sweetie,” she said, winking at the three of them. For good measure, she twirled enough that the hem of her very tiny nightgown rose to dangerous heights. The weight of the white, fuzzy fringe was probably the only thing keeping her knickers from full display. If she bothered to wear them at all, that is.

“Calm down there, Mrs. Claus,” Ron said. Pansy rewarded him with a wink.

Draco tried to give her a dirty look, but she was only looking at Ron.

They were soon joined by everyone still in the eighth years’ tower, every last one of them insisting that Draco dress in something more appropriate. He had argued that he had nothing festive and appropriate, but Padma quickly shot that down.

“You think I had anything Christmassy either? Just charm something. Or ask Pansy. I’d probably fuck it up and spell my pajamas invisible if I tried to put pictures on them. Pansy made me look cute, right?”

She too did a spin to show off her pink outfit covered in Santa-hat-wearing Hello Kitty faces.

“The only time they don’t spin is when they have pockets,” Ron whispered to Draco.

Not knowing how to respond to that, Draco said, “I’m going to go change.”

 

Draco slipped on his green silk pajamas and, with the good fortune of having a Gryffindor as a roommate, planned to borrow Harry’s scarf with just enough red to call himself festive when Pansy walked in without knocking.

“Well, now we know he’s not circumcised,” she said, pulling the scarf from Draco’s hand.

“What the Merlin? The fuck you talking about?”

“Breathe dear, you’re pink. And while you’re trying to remember how to speak, don’t for a moment attempt to tell me you didn’t notice that I own stockings thicker than the joggers Potter is wearing. You could see the color of his leg hair at twenty paces. Bet he’s a lot bigger when he’s hard.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Oh, come on. I know you were looking. Thinking. _Imagining_.”

“Did you even knock?”

Pansy gave him a look and pulled her wand from, presumably, thin air. “Reindeer or Christmas trees?”

“What?”

“I’m going to make your pajamas festive. It’s the dress code. I refuse to be seen with the only person not complying.”

Without letting him decide, she covered him in tasteful little trees. If such a thing could manage to be tasteful, anyway.

“Now come on,” she said. “We’re meeting in the kitchen. We’re having breakfast, and then I’m going to watch everyone else cook and bake for tonight’s party.”

 

Pansy had been exaggerating—very _slightly_ exaggerating—when she talked about Harry’s joggers. If they were only a bit tighter, Draco would have bet money that they were actually yoga pants. Draco could not keep his mind out of dangerous places even over breakfast. Staring into space as melting butter fell right off his toast, he thought of running his hands over Harry’s round arse and—

“Watch this,” Ron whispered to him. “Hey, Hannah! I like your gingerbread man nightgown!”

Hannah was getting up from the table, going after another batch of scones for her half of the table.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling brightly. “It’s got pockets!” She stuck her hands in the pockets and wiggled them, making her nightgown dance around her legs.

“Oh, that’s so cool.” Once she wasn’t looking, Ron said, “See, it’s the spin or the pockets. I love girls.”

Draco smiled.

“Don’t worry, Malfoy, I’m not waiting for you to agree.”

Draco did laugh at that.

 

They spent the rest of the morning baking mince pies, scones, and trifle. Dean suggested they put together some turkey sandwiches on cranberry nut bread. Hannah suggested they make cookies. Pansy and Blaise were intent on rum-spiked punch or eggnog or anything, really.

Draco had never seen most of these things as traditional. Christmas at his house was always a very formal affair, ending with a lemon-lavender mousse or a tart—depending on the House Elf’s interpretation of his mother’s mood. His job had only ever been to nod when appropriate, shake hands when required, and use the correct utensils when at the table. Even gift-giving was different for him. His presents were left in his room, not wrapped, by the servants, so he could get his “unseemly behavior” out of his system before he joined the rest of his family. His father was quite strict on this tradition.

“You seem a little out of your element,” Harry said, taking up a mesh spoon to help Draco sugar the tops of the pies.  

“I could say the same to you,” Draco answered, not wanting to say too much.

“I guess I don’t really have any traditions,” Harry said.

Draco raised his eyebrows.

Harry shook his head, as though he had started a conversation he hadn’t meant to start. Quickly backtracking, he nodded toward Padma. “She’s never celebrated Christmas before, but she’s like a duck in water.”

Padma had spelled her long hair up into a bow. Well, more like she spelled it into the shape of a bow, as Draco couldn’t see any pins or ties keeping it in that shape. She looked like a human present until you got to her face, which was covered in icing to look like war paint. She had a couple dozen iced cookies in front of her that looked like they could have been professionally made. When Hermione had asked how she did so well for her first time, she’d simply shrugged and replied with “it’s a Ravenclaw thing,” which had almost everyone re-evaluating what they thought it meant to be a Ravenclaw.

“I’m really sorry if you were pressured into doing this whole Christmas party thing.”

Draco looked at Harry. “I wasn’t.”

Harry smiled. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. You didn’t seem like you were into it.”

“It’s been a strange year for me.”

“No kidding,” he agreed, now helping Draco stack the pies onto a serving tray. “I’m really glad you’re spending the day with me...er, us. I mean, we’re having fun, right?”

“I’m not sure if I’d call it fun, but I’m enjoying the company.”

“That’s enough, yeah?” Harry asked.

Draco looked across the table full of snacks and sweets to where Harry stood looking nervous. “Are you okay?”

Harry blushed and gave Draco a onceover before looking down at his own hands, which were now clenched into fists on the table. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“You’re acting weird today. Weirder than usual. Almost like you’re walking on eggshells.”

Harry laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I guess I have a lot on my mind. Hey, did Pansy charm your pajamas to look like Christmas?” When he asked, he grabbed Draco by both wrists.

Draco wasn’t sure if he was more confused or startled, but he didn’t pull away. He only nodded.

“Cool, yeah. Tell her she did a good job.” Harry pulled back like he’d been burned and crossed the kitchen to where Ron and Seamus were looking awfully suspicious putting the lid back onto the cider cauldron.

“Okay, everyone,” Hermione called out over the noise in the kitchen. “We can leave all this here. I’ve asked the house-elves to bring it up later and they’ve agreed. We’re going to meet in the common room at half three to turn it into a pillow fort before we do more fun things. Don’t forget your gift if you want to participate in the exchange.”

Draco hardly paid any attention to her. Instead, he watched Harry. “What was that?” he asked himself, not realising Pansy was next to him.

“You’re lucky he didn’t try to grab your arse.”

Draco flinched when he heard her, both from the surprise and the words themselves. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“Because I told him to.”

Draco inhaled sharply, ready to raise his voice before thinking better of it. “Why the hell would you do that?!”

“It’s just a fun little Christmas prank.  I expected it to be a little more fun, but both of you are being boring about it. So I told him I charmed your pajamas and the only way to get them to be much less transparent was to place both palms on them. I recommended a nice, firm grip on the arse. Guess he didn’t go for it,” Pansy said. “Wonder how long it’s going to take him to suspect I did the same to his. Don't worry too much, only you two can see it.”

“I’m just going to go tell him,” Draco said, stepping around her.

“Isn’t that exactly what I’ve been telling you to do for ages?”

Draco could feel the heat in his face as he thought of just how many times she pushed him to tell Harry how he felt about him. It was never going to happen. However, he would tell him that Pansy was being more bothersome than a Cornish pixie and had tampered with his joggers.

 

By the time Draco had the opportunity to talk to Harry without a cluster of either of their friends around, the common room had been turned into a pillow fort with charmed snow falling from the ceiling. Christmas trees lined the room, and the whole space was lit by fairy lights and the fire from the yule log burning in the fireplace. All the enchantment was lost on Draco as he asked if he could talk to Harry alone for a minute.

Harry led them up the staircase to their room, closing the door behind them. “Everything all right?”

“Yes, but Pansy…”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to embarrass you, but she—”

“Harry, relax. It’s not the first time you’ve seen me indecent. We do share a room. I’m not here about that.”

“Oh, okay. So, we’re good on that?”

“She did the same to yours,” Draco explained, making a point to keep his eyes on Harry’s face.

“Oh,” Harry said, dragging out the word. “You telling me you want to touch my...legs?”

Draco reminded himself to breathe, ignoring the smirk on Harry’s face. “If I may.”

Harry held his hands out to his sides in a welcoming gesture. Draco had to lean down a bit, his height working as a disadvantage, to place his hands on Harry’s hips. Nothing happened.

“All better?” Harry asked, his face only centimeters from Draco’s.

“It didn’t work.”

“Try again?” Harry asked with some hesitation.

To avoid being right in Harry’s face, Draco dropped to one knee and placed his hands firmly on Harry’s thighs. Again, nothing happened. “When you touched my sleeves, was it instantaneous?” Draco asked, looking up to Harry.

With the fitting expression of a deer in headlights, Harry stared down at him.

“Well?”

“Er, sorry, what?” Harry stuttered.

“When you touched my sleeves, did the charm go away instantaneously?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Draco thought for a moment. “Fucking Pansy,” he muttered. “I’ve got one last idea. Did she tell you to grab my—”

“Yeah,” Harry interrupted. He was no longer looking at Draco, who was still down on one knee before him. “Think she made the charm that specific?”

“If you’d rather just change—” Draco started.

“No—I mean, I don’t have anything else that fits the, er, dress code or whatever. You can—if you don’t mind—just try.”

Draco sighed, completely put out by his current situation, and grabbed Harry’s arse with both hands, palms flat against the generous curve of Harry’s no-longer-charmed, snowflake joggers.

“Soft,” Draco commented when he’d (only somewhat intentionally) dragged his fingertips along the fabric.

“Not after that,” Harry laughed. He was pulling the bottom of his oversized sweater down as far as he could.

“Maybe we should—” Draco started, pointing toward the door.

“We should get back,” Harry agreed all too quickly.

 

The party was much more fun than Draco had anticipated. The gift exchange was first.  He received his from Hermione; a muggle children’s book about a Grinch. Draco had given a bag of candies to Seamus that would temporarily give him ice breath. With the number of fires Seamus set in a day, even he was amused with the gift.

Padma was wearing a string of jingle bells she’d gotten from the exchange. It only added to the noise she was making as she danced to every Christmas song that played over the wireless.

“For someone who doesn’t do Christmas, you sure seem to know all the songs,” Seamus said to her.

“Oh, come on, it’s ‘Jingle Bell Rock!’ Everyone in the English-speaking world knows this song.” Before the song was over, she had a few of the others dancing with her as well. There didn’t seem to be any set choreography, but they were obviously having fun. At the end of the song, she dove into the mass of pillows and cushions they’d assembled in the middle of the room. “I want cookies!”

“Now you’re talking!” Ron agreed.

From her spot sitting very close to Pansy in a chair obviously not made for two people, Hermione said, “What time is it? Food was going to be here at six.” With Pansy’s practically naked legs draped over her, Hermione made no attempt to get up to check on the food.

Within seconds, the large clock chimed the six o’clock hour, and the table they’d set up was piled high with the foods they’d made earlier. Hot foods still hot and cold foods still cold under their stasis charms.

For the first time since leaving their room, Harry approached Draco. “Careful with the cider. Ron and Seamus put rum in the hot one. I think the hot chocolate is fine, though.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Draco said. “Come on, let’s get one of the cookies Padma decorated before they’re gone.”

 

The cookies were as delicious as they were pretty. All the food had been more indulgent than Draco was accustomed to for a Christmas party. He thought of the lemon-lavender mousse he’d made himself choke down at more than one of his mother’s Christmas galas. This wasn’t elegant, but it was infinitely more fun. Draco was grateful, not for the first time, that he’d decided to spend the first weekend of the winter holidays at Hogwarts with the rest of those who stayed.

The hours passed by; the snacks were enjoyed. Songs were played, accompanied by what Padma insisted was interpretive dance and what the rest of them knew to be her hyperactivity. Hannah read aloud a copy of _The Night Before Christmas_ . Upon hearing that several of them, including Harry, had never read _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ , Hermione read that to the group as well.

The conversation Draco was having with Blaise was winding to an end when Draco said he was leaving for his room.

“You’re not staying?” Blaise asked him.

“Staying?”

“It’s a slumber party,” Blaise told him, pointing at several of their sleeping classmates for emphasis.

Draco looked around to see Dean and Seamus curled up in two of the only chairs they hadn’t transfigured into cushions for the pillow fort. Hannah and Padma were curled up on two of the cushions that they’d placed near the now-glowing embers of the fire.

“Looks like Pansy got her Christmas wish,” Blaise said.

Draco followed Blaise’s gaze to see Pansy sleeping soundly with her head on Ron’s chest and his arm around her. Ron was still awake talking to Hermione, who was tucked in to his left. They kept their voices low to keep from disturbing her, even though Hermione stroked Pansy’s hair as she slept.

“Never saw that working out,” Draco said.

“Well, I’m going to get another cider if there’s any left.” Blaise excused himself and left Draco alone in a mound of pillows and blankets.

Draco made himself comfortable, nestling down for a night in the common room. He stared up at the ceiling where the snow continued to fall but never quite reached them. Draco had almost drifted off when he felt someone next to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harry. Was I in your way?” He tried to say it with at least some attitude.

“Well, you know, the rest of them aren’t really used to me talking in my sleep as much as I do. I figured you could just elbow me if I get too bad. You know, just to be courteous,” Harry whispered.

“You rarely talk in your sleep.”

“Then maybe I’m just worried I’ll get cold.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I have no idea what I see in you, sometimes.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just caught up in the festivities. Too much cider.”

Harry laughed softly. “Like anyone could get you to drink anything but hot chocolate for the entire evening.”

“Whatever, Potter.” Draco crossed his arms, realizing how difficult it is to look sullen when lying down.

“Such a shame. I was ready to tell you I like you, too.”

Draco huffed.

“Well, I was left with no choice. Pansy took my spot.”

It took Draco a moment to remember where Pansy was at the moment. “Oh, do you usually need to sleep on some bloke’s chest?”

In one fluid movement, Harry slid over and curled up against Draco. With his head on Draco’s shoulder and arm around his waist, he said, “Since you’re offering...”

Almost unsure of what to do, he decided the only way to get comfortable was to allow himself to be cuddled. When he wrapped his arm around Harry, he could feel the other man laughing more than he could hear it.

“I really didn’t think I’d get this far,” Harry whispered.

Draco smiled. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’s only because I’m worried I’ll get cold, too.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.” He hooked his leg over one of Draco’s and cuddled in closer.

Draco rested his hand on Harry’s leg, the soft fabric warm under his fingers. “I think this will do.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “It’ll do.”

**Author's Note:**

> the crocs were inspired by a fic in the Erised fest and no theft-of-ideas was intended, link to follow: [Dragons Live Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572146)


End file.
